


Country of the Crepescule: Do You Like Our Owl?

by Dryad



Series: Country of the Crepescule [2]
Category: The X files
Genre: Other, Post-Three Words, pg13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet the kinder, gentler Bill Scully</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _'And in the evening  
He writes poetry for people  
Who deny he's alive and say   
"I'll mention that name"'_

Gary Numan/Only a Downstat/Replicas   
(Beggars Banquet Remasters)  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I have to stop at Mulder's," she said, fiddling with her seatbelt.

Bill scowled and tapped the brakes, glanced at her. "I thought this   
was going to be our night, just the two of us."

"He's sick, Bill. He took yesterday off," she readjusted the torso   
strap. "His immune system is severely compromised and I need to make   
sure he's all right."

As much as he would have liked to argue the point, he decided not to.   
The revelation of her pregnancy had been shocking on the heels of   
Mulder's disappearance. Bill shivered. The man's death and   
consequent resurrection was so extraordinary, so unbelievable, that   
if he had been a complete stranger, Bill might have thought he was   
the second Coming.

But - it was _Mulder_.

The journey was relatively quick, considering the traffic and weather   
conditions. Raindrops rattled on the roof of the car like tiny   
hailstones, coating the windshield almost too quickly for the wipers   
to cope. Crimson taillights cleared and blurred, cleared and   
blurred, punctuated by hollow white low-beams and the cold roseate   
glow of sodium streetlamps. 

The parking lot was full, but Bill finagled an empty space next to   
one of the dumpsters near the entrance. He crowded under the   
umbrella with Dana, hoping that Mulder was fine, reading a book or   
jerking off or doing whatever he did with his free time so that they   
could get to the damned restaurant already. Christ, he'd been lucky   
to get the reservation. 

Inside, the lobby was clean and undecorated apart from the olive   
green Greek Key on the linoleum floor. Dana stopped by the   
mailboxes, dialing in number forty-two's combination.

"Isn't that a Federal offense?" he said.

She removed several white envelopes and a couple of neon green True   
Value flyers. "Only if I read it."

Which she would have done upon his disappearance. Bill winced.   
He felt as if there was nothing he could say which wouldn't be a reminder   
of the dead Fox Mulder. During the last annual gathering of the Scully   
clan he'd made a disparaging comment about the Knicks to someone,   
and quite suddenly had found himself on the receiving end of more stats  
about the damned team than he'd known what to do with from Dana.   
What made it even worse was that as far as he knew, she didn't even  
like basketball. Neither did he, for that matter, but that wasn't the point. Hell,   
she'd never liked sports, for all of her attempts to play football   
with him and Charlie and Dad when they were kids. She had no right   
using that tone of voice with him, she wasn't his enemy, not any   
more. 

Once, he'd gently suggested she worry more about the miracle inside   
her than the man who'd obviously run scared from the responsibility. 

Wrong. 

He'd offered to be her partner in the delivery room. 

Wrong. 

He'd made the apparently grave error of asking what she was going to   
do with the sizable estate she had inherited.

Whoopass wrong.

So now he tried to keep his trap shut.

But, Jesus, two houses on Martha's Vineyard, another in Connecticut,   
and a summer home in Rhode Island? A heap of stocks in some very   
large corporations, everything from pharmaceuticals and energy to   
Futurities and US Bonds? Mom had practically whispered the info into   
the phone, as if she were afraid Dana would overhear all the way from   
Georgetown. At least for once Mulder had had the decency to cede   
everything to Dana, instead of her doing the reverse. 

The elevator smelled like all elevators, full of stale electricity   
and machine oil, the almost unnoticeable scent of transience   
underlying the lingering stench of floral perfume and Chinese food.   
The door slid open to reveal a stunningly attractive woman holding a   
large black and white cat. The cat was wearing a red harness and   
leash.

"Dana!" The woman cried, stepping back to let them out.

"Hi, Bryan."

Bryan? Odd name for a woman. She was beautiful, with long dark hair   
and huge brown eyes framed by jet eyelashes. Dressed in a loose   
sweatshirt, cargo pants, and loafers, she looked comfortable yet   
classy. But women rarely had hands that large or shoulders that wide   
or hips that narrow. The voice was just ambiguous enough to be taken   
either way. Jesus.

"How is he?"

Dana shrugged. "Doing as well as can be expected given the   
circumstances."

"Yeah," Bryan glanced at Bill curiously, then smiled to himself.   
"Shocked the hell out of me when he knocked on my door. Scrooge just   
ran right up and curled himself around Fox's ankles, didn't you my   
widdle puddy? Aren't you a good boy, my smart, smart kiddypins?"

Gah, it was enough to make a man ill. Bill sighed and tried not to   
look too impatient. He was starving, damn it.

Bryan rubbed the cat's back and said, "I missed him."

Dana put one hand on his arm, which surprised Bill. Never the most   
demonstrative person, she had grown increasingly less affectionate as   
time had passed. 

"How's the little one?" asked Bryan, nodding at Dana. 

The corners of her mouth turned up. "We're fine." 

"Good," he said. The cat mrowed and headbutted its owner's chin.   
"The lord and master has spoken. Time for this big boy's evening   
constitutional. You tell him to come over anytime he wants, okay?"

"I will," Dana said, already heading down the hall. 

Bill didn't know why she bothered to knock on forty-two's door, she   
already had the key in her hand and in the lock before the echo of   
their footsteps had died away. 

From the few times he'd met Mulder, he'd figured the man was a   
jerk, a hole surrounded by ass who'd led Dana into terrible   
situations and almost gotten her killed more than once, and those   
were only the times he knew about. One of his buddies had taped that   
stupid episode of COPS - Jesus, he was still trying to live that down   
\- never mind the thirty or forty videos of The Lazarus Bowl that had   
passed through his possession. Why people seemed to think giving him   
a copy so funny was beyond his comprehension. 

Sometimes he caught his superiors looking at him oddly, usually   
before they asked how his sister was recovering, which always made   
him feel stupid, because most of the time he didn't even know where   
she was much less what she had been doing. He knew there had been   
something behind all of those long, strange silences. He remembered   
dropping by Mom's one evening only to find Dana lying on the couch,   
channel surfing. Despite her protestations to the contrary, her   
bandaged hands, her hoarse voice, the black patches of dead skin on   
her forehead and cheeks had all pointed to cold weather action and   
subsequent hospitilization. The kicker was her refusal to tell him   
or their mother what had happened. '"It's confidential"' she kept   
saying, over and over until he'd wanted to slap her silly.

Anyway, after COPS he'd reached the conclusion that Mulder was   
utterly delusional, and judging by Dana's onscreen response, she felt   
the same way. Which was why he had been stunned a few months later   
by the depth of her grief at his 'death'. So now he was exceedingly   
curious to find out what in the man could make his sister so loyal,   
so hard, so. . .different. Who the hell was Fox Mulder, and how was   
it he moved everyone so strongly? His mother, both sisters, the   
damned neighbor. 

"Mulder?" Dana called, turning on lights as she moved from room   
to room.

The apartment was obviously a bachelor pad. Bill was disgusted   
with himself for liking it. He loved Tara, he did, but there were   
days when he could do without chintz-covered furniture and Floral   
Breeze carpet deodorizer and pinochle night with 'The Girls'. 

"Mulder - "

The plaintive tone grabbed Bill's attention. He followed Dana   
into the bedroom. Double bed, navy paisley comforter, hardwood   
floors, dresser with gun, wallet, and watch on top, two matching   
nightstands, a plant, a couple of lamps.

Bill approved.

Mulder was awake, peering at them, at Dana, actually,   
dismissing Bill almost immediately. His eyes were overly bright,   
cheeks pink and shiny. 

Dana pursed her lips and felt his forehead. "Fever. Bill, see   
if there's any cold medication in the bathroom, please."

Following orders was ever his strong suit. Whatever else could   
be said about Mulder, he certainly wasn't a slob. The bathroom was   
neat and clean, not even a whiff of mildew lingering around the   
bathtub curtain. The medicine cabinet provided an empty bottle of   
generic aspirin and a tin of glow-in-the-dark Stars and Comets   
Band-Aids. Bill shook his head. The man was a child in a grownup's   
body.

"Sorry, there's nothing in there," he said, returning to the   
bedroom. "Y'know, if we don't get going we're going to lose our   
table."

He was hungry all right, hungry for Dana's company. The   
chances of actually making it to the restaurant were getting slimmer   
with each passing moment. Mulder was a grown man for God's sake, he   
could take care of himself. 

Right?

If Mulder was a child then Dana appeared happy enough to play   
mommy. He could tell by the way she sat on the bed, gazing at her   
partner's flushed face. Ah, and judging by the look she was now   
giving him, once again he was wrong. Shit. "Just tell me what to   
get."

"No, it'll be quicker if I go. You don't know the   
neighborhood."

Bill watched them watching one another, and abruptly felt like   
an intruder in some extremely private love scene. People shouldn't   
behave like that, not in public where everyone could see. Especially   
not between people who weren't even married. He shoved his hands   
into his pockets. 

Dana awkwardly leaned forward, huge belly in the way, hair   
falling over her cheek. For a moment Bill thought they were going to   
smooch, but she tilted her head up at the last second and kissed   
Mulder's forehead instead. The look on her face was tender, as if he   
were the only person in the world who mattered. Hell, maybe he was.   
Mulder certainly mirrored her expression back, only at her midsection   
as she sat up.

"We're fine," she said.

Mulder quirked an eyebrow and she laughed, if a breathy snort   
could be called a laugh. "I won't be too long."

"I'll call the restaurant and see if we can get a later   
reservation," Bill said, walking her to the door. She pursed her   
lips and dropped her eyes to his chest before heading off, which was   
never a good sign. 

So now it was just Mulder and him. 

Bill sighed. He went back into the bedroom and eyed the other   
man. "Have you eaten today?" 

Mulder licked his lips, which Bill took to be a negative. He   
went into the kitchen and started opening cabinets. Plenty of dried   
goods, too many for a single man. Mulder didn't strike him as being   
particularly domestic. The fridge was home to several bottles of   
Snapple Mint Iced Tea and Poland Spring, a bag of oranges, another of   
carrots and yet a third with orange bell peppers. Maybe he was low   
on Vitamin A.

Bill opened a can of Campbell's Chicken Noodle and a box of   
Saltines, fixed Mulder a bowl of hot soup and a small dish of   
crackers plus a large tumbler of water, brought them into the bedroom   
on a tray he had found lurking underneath the sink. Setting the tray   
to one side, he helped Mulder sit up, shoved the extra pillows behind   
his back. He was briefly tempted to feed him after watching his   
trembling hands raise and lower the spoon, but pride and common sense   
kicked the idea to the back of his mind. He was reminded of Dana's   
cancer, all those years ago. She'd been thin beyond comparison,   
looking like a famine victim as the days shortened and eternal night   
grew closer. 

"I love my sister," he blurted.

Mulder gazed at him, bleary eyes glittering in the soft light.   
Horrified and obscurely ashamed at his confession, as if   
expressing love for one's sibling was unmanly, Bill fled to the   
living room. 

Mulder of all people. Christ.

Shaking his head at his own folly, he called The Continental   
and was able to get a short extension on their reservation. He then   
wandered around the living room, checked out the videos and dvds.   
Ha, no damned Lazarus Bowl here. He had the Compleat Police Squad!   
on dvd, though, which was a good sign. A few more titles, mostly   
movies he'd never heard of - Tremors, Deep Rising, Flesh Gordon, The   
Jerk, Spinal Tap. It appeared that Mulder's flights of fancy stemmed   
from sources other than Hollyweird.

At least he recognized some of the cds sitting on top of the   
stereo. Elvis, couldn't go wrong there. Cream, the Rolling Stones -   
pfagh, he'd rather listen to Johnny Cash or Patty Loveless. Motown   
greats - Aretha Franklin, Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye. Who was it   
Missy used to listen to? That song that Bowie and Mick Jagger remade   
in the 80's, Dancing in the Streets? Martha Reeves and the   
Vandellas? Yeah, Martha Reeves. That whole summer had been crazy,   
with Charles just starting to go off the deep end, Missy smoking pot   
with her so-called 'friends' in that grimy pool hall with the neon   
pink sign. 

He found some Electric Light Orchestra, a lot of Tom Petty.   
Who the hell were the Masters of Reality or Morphine? Zero 7?   
Talking Heads? DJ Krush? God, he was getting old. There were   
classical cds too, which surprised him. Never mind domestic, Mulder   
didn't seem like a classical kind of guy either. Handel's Water   
Music, Beethoven's 6th and 7th symphonies, Holst' Planets, Poulenc's   
Gloria. Ah, the picture was coming in more clearly now. These were   
some of Dana's favorites. He frowned. There was meaning here, but   
damned if he could figure out what it was.

The desk was littered with papers, books, the requisite   
computer, an old fashioned microscope like the kind he'd used in   
school, and other knickknacks. Along the back edge were three   
pictures in polished cherry burlwood frames. On the left was a posed   
photo of a dark-haired boy and girl on a beach in winter. Both had   
beaming bright smiles despite the girl's two missing front teeth, the   
boy with one arm slung around the girl's shoulders. Dead center was   
another black and white snapshot, slightly blurred as if the picture   
had been taken while the subjects or photographer were moving. Mulder   
was in profile, looking down at something in his hands and laughing,   
while Dana faced the camera almost straight on. She was gazing at   
him with an enormous grin, leaning hard against his shoulder. On the   
far right, but impossible to overlook, was a pen and ink drawing of   
Mulder, Dana and - Cher?

Whatever. 

There were more books in the display case, Wharton, Joyce,   
Bukowski, Clarke-Evans, Meade, Burgess. Probably obscure titles   
about the paranormal and the scientific. God, there were even a few   
by that hack, Jose Chung. Tara loved that crap, ate it up with a   
spoon no matter how much he told her it was all nonsense. Thank God,   
at least Dana had enough on the ball not to feed into her fantasies.   
Of course, Dana had had her own problems that Christmas, not that he   
believed that poor kid was hers for a second. 

He figured the fish had already been fed, and was just about to   
sit down when by the wall, a flash of reflected tanklight caught his   
eye. Reaching behind the couch, he pulled out a soft package and yet   
another book. Bill snorted in disbelief.

A 24 pack of Huggies. 

A bright yellow, soft bound edition of Parenting for Dummies.

Oh, this was surreal. He heard a key in the front door and   
hastily shoved the items back where they belonged, then threw himself   
onto the couch. "That was quick."

Dana shut the door and nodded, white plastic bag swinging from   
one hand. "I thought it best."

Which wasn't a resounding statement of her trust in him, but   
then there hadn't been a lot of that between the two of them since   
the incident in Baltimore. And to be fair, he wasn't exactly Fox   
Mulder's greatest fan. He went into the kitchen, watched her put   
three cartons of OJ and two of cranberry into the fridge. She put a   
bottle of aspirin, another of Tylenol, some multivitamins, Echinacea   
capsules, and a box of ImmunoTea on the counter. "He'll never be sick   
again with all of that in his system."

"That's the general idea," she murmured, grabbing the aspirin   
and a bottle of water.

Bill followed her back into the bedroom, nearly running into   
her when she abruptly halted. 

She looked over her shoulder, both eyebrows sky high.

"I, uh, brought him some soup, I hope that's okay," he said,   
shifting from foot to foot.

Her eyes dropped to his chest again, lips curving up ever so   
slightly. "Yeah. That's okay."

Mulder had fallen asleep, and Bill decided to wait in the   
living room while Dana did her doctor stuff. The only thing worse   
than having to go see a doctor was having to watch another man   
undergo the same horror. He heard the low murmur of conversation for   
a moment, then Dana exited the bedroom, gently closing the door   
behind her. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," she said, mouth tightening briefly.

Why couldn't he ever get it right with her? She'd obviously   
done her best by Mulder, now they could go to dinner and have a   
normal conversation about family, about the things that really   
mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _'Time heals nothing_  
It merely rearranges our memories  
In zero bars  
Even time no longer seems  
Willing to try'

Gary Numan/Zero Bars (Mr Smith)/Tubeway Army  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It wasn't quite a disaster. 

The food was good - lemon sole on a bed of spinach risotto for  
her, steak Diane with summer vegetables and new potatoes for himself.  
Personally, he was over the risotto fad. Now that Tara had finally  
learned how to make it the right way, it seemed like it was the only  
side dish they ever ate anymore. 

Halfway through a rare, third glass of wine, lassitude working  
through his muscles, stomach content with bread and salad and beef,  
his brain decided to take a little stroll. "So, are you moving back  
home with Mom?"

Dana blinked, fork halfway to her mouth. A grain of rice fell  
back onto the plate. "I'm sorry?"

"Well," he said, shrugging. "I was thinking you'd need help  
around the house. I mean, nannies are all well and good, but can you  
really afford to have one around when you go back to work?"

"I'm not moving to Baltimore. I don't know why you think I  
would."

Bill frowned. "You've only got what, three months of maternity  
leave, how are you going to work it? We never went to daycare, and  
neither should your baby. I wouldn't allow Matthew in one those  
places for love nor money."

"What makes you I can't do this on my own, Bill? There are  
plenty of single mothers, single parents - "

"They're not my only sister," he stabbed a piece of meat,  
pink juices running into the peppercorn studded gravy. "I don't care  
about them, I care about you, dammit!"

"I appreciate that," she said, motioning for him to keep his  
voice down.

 _'But'_ , he mentally supplied.

"But we'll be fine."

"How?"

Her lips quirked. "Well, besides Mom, I've got three  
babysitters all ready to go. One of them is even willing."

He recalled Huggies behind a leather couch and pressed on,  
knowing exactly how his next question was going to sound. "And  
Mulder?"

She looked at him narrowly. "What about him?"

"For Christ's sake, do I have to spell it out for you? Is he  
the father?"

For a long moment she stared at her plate. "You would be  
happier if he was completely out of my life, wouldn't you."

Duh. 

"Bill, you're my brother. We've not had the easiest of  
relationships - "

"We were _fine_ ," he stressed the last word. "before you left med  
school. You changed."

"You make it sound like something I should apologize for."

"No," he paused and swallowed the remaining wine in his glass,  
decided to finish off the bottle. "I mean, things are different  
between us now."

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head a little, obviously  
not getting his point. "We grew up."

"But you weren't like this before you met Mulder. He's done  
something to you, changed you in a way I don't understand. You're  
different," he said, shrugging helplessly. 

"Of course I am. The things I've seen, the things I've done,  
having a child I didn't even know about - "

Bill snorted and rolled his eyes. "Don't start that again. Mom  
told me about your supposed infertility - "

"Cancer, being shot, conspiracy upon conspiracy..." she  
continued as if he hadn't spoken, then trailed off for a few seconds.  
"That incident with Matty. I would never hurt my own child, if  
that's what you're really concerned with."

"God, Dana, of course not!" he was shocked she would even say  
such a thing. The things he had thought on that day, the things he  
had said - in retrospect he had had no idea he could be so cruel.  
However, the past was set, and the important thing was that they were  
on the road to being a family again. Although if he were truly  
honest with himself, he had thought about it, had discussed it with  
Tara, even broaching the topic with Mom, who had been less than  
accommodating to the idea. Nonetheless, he had seen the unvoiced  
worry in her eyes.

"Good. Because I will protect this baby at the sacrifice of  
everything - and everyone - that I know, including you."

"What about Mulder?"

"He would do the same."

They skipped dessert. 

She drove towards Mulder's without a word while he sat in the  
passenger seat, pondering their conversation. Surely she didn't  
think he was a danger to his new niece or nephew? Her tone had been...  
not exactly accusatory. But how could she not expect him to think  
of it, considering what had happened with Matty?

Of course she was right, their relationship was no longer as  
solid as it had been when they were children, that was a given. Yet  
how could he explain to her that she was a stranger? Okay, yeah,  
they saw one another at Christmas, provided he was on leave, yet she  
never talked to him, and as far as he knew she didn't really talk to  
Mom or Tara either. When they chatted about shows on tv, or books  
they'd read or movies they'd seen, Dana was silent, smiling  
occasionally at funny quips, asking a question or two, but never  
discussing what she had been doing at work.

In a way, Bill could understand the need for silence. She  
worked for the government, just as he did. Sometimes he was free to  
be specific about where he was, sometimes he wasn't, that was just  
the nature of the work, but safeguarding the country wasn't part of  
her job. Hell, she worked in the goddamned basement of the Hoover  
Building! And she seemed satisfied to stay there. He looked at her  
curiously. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you join the FBI?"

She glanced at him, turned off the radio and the spring  
training report in mid- ' _\- out of left field, it's_ \- '. "Y'know,  
that's the first time you've ever asked me that question."

"No it isn't."

"Yes, Bill, it is."

He flipped one hand at her. "Whatever."

After a minute she said, "Why did you join the Navy?"

"Because I wanted to. I wanted to serve my country like Dad, I  
wanted him to be proud of me," he regretted the words as soon as they  
came out of his mouth. 'I wanted him to be proud of me'. Christ, he  
sounded like a candy-assed pansy.

"He was proud of you. I think you were the son he always  
wanted."

But Dana had always been the apple of their father's eye. 

"I can tell by your silence that you disagree," she said drily.

"You were always his favorite," Bill said, refusing to  
acknowledge her irritated glance in his direction.

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"I do? Come on, who was it he talked about whenever I called  
home? It was Dana this, Dana that, Dana graduated top of her class,  
Dana's going to Med school, Dana's engaged - "

"Wh-what?" 

He rested his hot cheek against the cool glass of the window, a  
little surprised by her shocked tone. "Yeah, to Ethan. It was all  
Mom could talk about for days."

"Bill, Ethan never asked to marry me."

"Yeah, Dana, he did. He said he surprised you when you got  
back from your first case with Mulder," Ethan had been ecstatic over  
the phone. He was all right, not the kind of man Bill had ever  
thought Dana would go for, but whatever, it was her choice.

"I think I'd remember if a man wanted to marry me," she mused.  
"No wonder everyone was so upset when we broke up."

Another minute passed. Bill twisted his wedding ring to and  
fro. "You haven't answered my question."

"I don't know what to tell you, Bill. The chance to solve a  
mystery, to bring justice to those who would otherwise be forgotten,"  
she shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "There are plenty to speak  
for the living, few who speak for the dead."

"You always did like Quincy," He muttered. "Why the FBI?"

"Why not? Where better to use those skills I worked so hard  
for? Anyway, didn't I just answer that question?"

"Was Missy's death worth it?"

When she finally spoke her voice was low. "How dare you. How  
dare you say that to me."

"Someone has to," he sniped, shifting back against the seat.  
"Jesus, Dana! This family has lost so much because of your job!  
Because of Mulder!"

"Oh, now you're being ridiculous," she spat. "You think I don't  
feel guilty? You think I'm off doing things of no importance simply  
because I don't report back to you or Mom? Well, let me tell you  
something, Bill. I would have gotten cancer _regardless_ of my work.  
Ahab would _still_ have died. And without the X Files I would never  
have met the wonderful, amazing, brilliant man with whom I've shared  
some of the most important moments in my life. We've solved the  
unsolvable, confronted evil itself, saved millions of lives. _Yes_ ,  
it's been dangerous, and _yes_ , both Mulder and I have almost lost our  
lives more times than I care to recall, but I wouldn't change that  
for the world. Not one, single, solitary thing."

Too late, Bill remembered that out of all of them, Dana had  
been the one who always stuck by her choices, even when she was  
wrong. 

"And what's more, both Dad and Melissa would understand, so why  
can't you?"

The rest of the trip was made in silence.

Back inside Mulder's apartment, Bill watched Dana wash the  
dishes and wipe down the counters, her movements quick and edgy. She  
refused to look him in the eye, answering any comment he made with  
monotone yes's and no's. He wouldn't apologize for what he had said  
in the car, for whether or not she wanted to admit it, deep down  
inside she had to know he was right. 

"Right," Dana muttered. "I'm going to stay here tonight, make  
sure Mulder doesn't get any worse. You can take the car - "

"No, no way," Bill shook his head. "You need to rest in your  
own bed. You're pregnant, for God's sake."

"I had noticed."

"Listen, why don't I stay here," he held up one placating hand.  
"This way you can check on Mulder in the morning, then take me  
directly to Baltimore. I'm still a little buzzed, and I don't want  
to navigate unfamiliar streets. You need to get some sleep, you look  
exhausted."

"I don't know..."

Bill glanced heavenward. "Look, I promise I won't beat him up.  
The couch seems comfy - "

"It is."

"...and...I'm sure we'll both be fine."

She nodded, slowly twisting the kitchen towel. "Okay. But you'll  
call me if anything happens, right?"

"Of course."

Once again, he found himself trailing after her as she checked  
up on Mulder one last time. She grabbed a spare pillow and another  
blanket out of the closet, rummaged around in one of the bureaus and  
handed him a tee shirt and a pair of gray sweats that had seen better  
days. Pragmatic, that's what she was. She would go through anyone's  
drawers if she needed to find something for someone. Afterwards, he  
helped her with her coat, straightening her collar and wrapping a  
scarf around her neck.

She frowned and twitched away. "Bill, enough."

As seemed to be his habit, a guilty conscience and sobriety  
made him speak up as she opened the door. "I just, I just wanted to  
say that I'm sorry about what happened in the car. A little too much  
wine, y'know?" 

"No, I don't know. You tell yourself whatever you want, but  
quite frankly, that's the last I ever want to hear concerning your  
opinion of myself or Mulder. Good night."

Bill locked the door and turned off the kitchen light, slowly  
walked into the living room. He undressed, hanging his clothes  
neatly over the desk chair, then got comfy on the couch. It was only  
later, staring at the Weather Channel, that he realized she had never  
answered his original question. What about Mulder? Was he the  
father? And what the hell had she meant when she said they had saved  
millions of lives? It hadn't sounded like a slip of the tongue, in  
fact she had said it with such conviction he was almost persuaded she  
was telling the truth. Making a mental note to do some research  
through FOIA, and maybe call in a few favors from Giles at ONI, he  
turned off the tv and snuggled more deeply under the blanket. Before  
he closed his eyes, he briefly pondered the irony of being in  
Mulder's apartment, sleeping on Mulder's couch, attending to a sick  
Mulder. When the hell had he turned into Dana? 

Somewhere, the proverbial Murphy was laughing his ass off.


	3. Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _' You are in my vision -_  
I can't turn my face  
You are in my vision -  
I can't move my eyes  
You are in my vision -  
I can't move at all  
You are in my vision - '

Gary Numan/You Are In My Vision/Replicas  
(Beggars Banquet original release)  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A damp-haired, Oxford blue boxer-clad Fox Mulder scratching his balls was  
the last thing Bill never wanted to see, especially at...seven  
forty-five in the morning. Yeah, it was a guy thing, and yeah, Navy  
life made you immune to it. 

Kind of. 

Mostly. 

Bill pushed the blankets to one side and sat up, rubbed his  
face with both hands. "You're looking better."

"Yeah, Scully worked her magic once again," Mulder said. "Don't  
let me keep you from anything you need to be doing, I'll be fine."

"Thanks, but I don't think Dana would forgive me."

Mulder nodded slowly, obviously mulling over something. 

Don't bring it up, don't bring it up, don't bring it up - 

"I wasn't sure. It's been awhile."

Christ, what the hell had she told him? He was not going to  
let himself be interrogated about his relationship with his own  
sister by Fox Mulder. "What the hell would you know about it?"

"I was there, Bill. I know she's found it hard to forgive  
herself."

"So?"

"I think she's far more lenient where you're concerned than the  
reverse."

Bill shook his head wearily. He should have known better.  
Mulder didn't have children, didn't understand the fear every parent  
had of outliving their offspring, never mind the unimaginable, having  
your own sibling threaten them. "What do you want me to say? That I  
was too harsh? I'll grant you that, but I ask you to consider what  
you would have done in the same situation."

He stopped for a moment, then tried to explain further,  
wondering why he was bothering to justify his actions. "Before she  
joined the FBI, Dana would never have dreamed of doing such a thing,  
don't you see that? She's irrational at the best of times, her  
career is ruined, she's put our entire family in danger for reasons  
she refuses to explain, hell, Melissa was murdered because of her!  
She used to be soft and caring and kind, with a good career in her  
future, good men. What does she have now? Nothing."

Before Mulder had a chance to rebut, someone kicked the door a  
couple of times. One hand on his hip, the other covering his mouth,  
he took a couple of steps towards the door before abruptly swinging  
around. "I think it's time you stopped looking for the sister you  
want Dana to be, and see her for the woman she is."

What the hell did that mean? If he had ever wondered who Dana  
had gotten her cryptic manner of speaking from, the answer was now  
clear. Maybe that was her at the door, and he could get the hell out  
of Dodge.

His luck had never been good. Bill nodded a greeting at the  
man, another trench-clad suit with craggy features and ice blue eyes,  
who viewed him with the same suspicion Dana did when she met  
strangers. 'Cop eyes', she called it. The man carried two paper  
cups of what smelled like coffee in his hands. 

"Agent Doggett," Mulder said. "This is Bill Scully."

"Hi. You related to Agent Scully?" Doggett put the cups on the  
table, then held out one hand. 

Bill shook, got a good feel for the man based on his grip. Not  
too soft, not too strong, dry, calloused skin, hot from the coffee.  
"I'm her older brother."

"Call me John. I haven't worked with her for that long, but  
she's one hell of an Agent, Mr. Scully. You should be very proud of  
her."

He didn't quite know what to say to that, so he simply nodded.

"What can I do for you, Agent Doggett?" asked Mulder, now  
scratching his belly.

"I was looking for Agent Scully, is she here?"

"She will be."

The other man motioned towards Mulder. "Hell of a bullet scar."

Mulder touched the ridged skin on his shoulder, smirked at  
Bill. "Little love tap from your sister."

"I figured her for a better shot," He answered sourly. 

"Got between her and a suspect, huh?" asked Doggett. 

Mulder snorted. "No."

Doggett's expression smoothed over. "Right..."

You and me both, buddy, Bill wanted to say. He wondered if  
there was any chance of getting the particulars behind that story  
before Dana arrived. Maybe Mom knew.

"I, uh, only brought two coffees."

"That's okay," Mulder flipped one hand in the air. "I'm off it  
at the moment, just doesn't taste right. If you'll excuse me, I need  
food."

Bill didn't hesitate to snag the nearest cup with anticipation.  
Breakfast of champions. And not the sort from that stupid book of  
the same title, the one by that author Giles couldn't get enough of. 

Agent Doggett - John - sat on the desk chair. "You live in DC?"

"No, just came up from Baltimore for a quick visit with Dana."

"That's good, she could use the support."

Bill grimaced. Last night the thought had repeatedly occurred  
that his presence was only making things worse, not better. It just  
seemed that no matter what he did, what he said, it pissed her off.  
She had even rebuffed Tara's suggestions about when was best to have  
the baby shower. Okay, maybe he was biased, but Tara had been as  
pleasant as possible over the phone, while Dana had been nothing but  
a bitch. He'd wanted to call her back. Tara convinced him  
otherwise, with the added caveat that this was the last time she  
would try to help Dana in any way. 

'"Obviously she doesn't think she needs anyone's help," Tara  
had said.

"We can see that, she can't," he'd answered, fearing for the  
ceramic figurines she was dusting with more than absolutely necessary  
force. "She's always been stubborn, and I can see that working at the  
FBI has only strengthened her resolve to let nothing inside. It  
takes time for her to remember we're not the bad guys."

"You're her brother, it'll be up to you to deal with her,  
because I certainly can't," She stopped and glared at him. "You need  
to stop making excuses for her, Bill. Against my better judgement,  
I've given her chance after to chance to be my friend, even after  
that whole debacle the last time we were in Baltimore. I spent as  
much time with her during her cancer as I could. Did you forget how  
quickly she left after Matty was born? I made an effort to go to  
that little girl's funeral three days after giving birth! I was  
sore, I was in pain, yet I managed to be there in church, and what do  
I get in return - nothing! Sure, she sends gifts on Matty's  
birthday, but who calls who on the holidays? Half the time she  
cancels when she can be bothered to show up. And don't even get me  
started on the way she treats Maggie. It's bad enough that I can't  
even remember my own mother, God rest her soul, and to see Dana be  
cruel to Maggie," she shook her head. "I am so grateful to have your  
mother in my life, and Dana's so damned casual about her, as if it's  
guaranteed she'll be there forever, just waiting for a call from her  
only remaining daughter."

He had stood there dumbly, shocked at her tirade. Although  
there was truth in her words, she wasn't from a Navy family, didn't  
understand the significance of the things Dana did do with the  
family. Then again, sometimes he had trouble convincing himself they  
were related at all. Christ, he'd had more intimate conversations  
his CO. He glanced at John. "Are you on the X Files with Dana?"

John's gaze flickered towards the kitchen. "Until Mulder's back  
to full health, yeah."

"Is Dana planning on returning once the baby's born?" Okay, so it wasn't  
the most subtle question in the world, big whoop. If she didn't see  
fit to tell him what she was going to do, he'd find out any way he  
could. Even if it was from someone she'd never mentioned before.

John blinked. "You'll have to ask her."

Bill took a bathroom break, washed his face and finger-combed  
his hair. He wiped away the dew on the mirror, frowned a little.  
What was coming out of his nose? Without even a razor blade  
available to cut the offending hair, he braced himself and pulled it  
out with his fingertips.

Dana was tossing her coat over the arm of the sofa when he  
stepped back into the living room, eyes still watering from the pain  
in his nostril. Mulder, now dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved white  
tee, leaned against the wall munching on a slice of toast, and John  
had risen to his feet. The atmosphere was subtly charged, although  
no one looked particularly perturbed.

"Good morning," Dana said, slowly and carefully sitting down. "Sleep well?"

"Fine, thanks," Bill answered, eyeing her with concern. Makeup  
couldn't hide the dark circles and pinched mouth, or how thin she was  
despite her new-found girth. He leaned against the desk, abruptly  
beguiled by the tableau. 

"Are you planning on going to the office today, Agent Doggett?"  
Dana asked, her voice dangerously mild.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I, uh, just wanted to know if you had the  
Goddard files with you."

"Hang on, I'll get them," Mulder said, walking into the  
bedroom. He was back momentarily with several red-and-white striped  
manila folders in one hand, a plastic bottle in the other. 

"Thanks," John tucked them under his arm and picked up his cup.

Bill watched as Mulder sat on the table, reached down and  
removed Dana's shoes and socks before swinging her feet up onto his lap.  
Her mouth formed an 'O' of pleasure when he squeezed lotion onto his  
hands and began to work on her soles. God, he'd done the same for  
Tara all those years ago. It was another intimacy he wouldn't have  
witnessed had he not stayed over, but this time he was charmed rather  
than embarrassed. 

He glanced over at John to share his amusement, and found  
something he was surprised to see. The look on his face. Envy was  
a hard thing for a man to bear.

"Well, I'd better get going," John nodded, apparently unaware  
of Bill's scrutiny. "I'll, uh, see you at work, Agent Scully."

Neither Dana nor Mulder even glanced at the other man as he  
left the apartment, and Bill rather pitied him. Must have been  
tough, having to work with a beautiful woman who was so obviously  
completely uninterested in you. Thank God he was married to Tara.  
And thank God the Navy hadn't yet been totally swarmed with women.  
Not that he would ever leave Tara for the kind of females who joined  
the Armed Forces, hell no. He liked softness and femininity, not the  
ball-breakers he seemed to attract, although few were as hard as his  
sister. Who wasn't a ball-breaker. At least he didn't think she  
was. Not that he would know, never having seen her in her  
professional capacity, apart from that one camping trip. Okay, yeah,  
no, she wasn't a ball-breaker, she had simply been doing her job, and  
sometimes the attitude floated over into her personal life. 

Yeah, that was it.

"Shower's free," said Mulder, making Dana squirm with whatever  
he was doing. "There's a clean towel on the back of the door."

"Thanks," Bill studied them another moment, then headed towards  
the bathroom. Oddly enough, he felt better. Maybe because Dana  
hadn't ragged him about the bottle of wine he'd had last night, but  
probably because of the coffee. Good stuff, he wished he'd asked  
John where he'd gotten it.

He stripped, adjusted the temperature until it was just right,  
then stepped underneath the spray. Breakfast with Dana, hopefully in  
sit-down restaurant instead of McDonald's, and the drive to Baltimore  
in which to fully enjoy her company. He wouldn't mention Mulder, no,  
they'd just talk about the baby and what names she was thinking of,  
what it was like working in the office as opposed to the field, what  
her friends at the Bureau thought, topics which were all probably  
safe enough. Rinsing his hair clean of shampoo, it struck him how  
little they had to talk about. Talk about Mom and her social life,  
see if she was, God forbid, interested in anyone, and bring up  
Charlie, see if she'd spoken to him anytime recently. Mom was  
convinced he was doing better, but Bill had the feeling she was lying  
through her teeth, trying to persuade herself of the fiction instead  
of the reality. 

Muttering under his breath, Bill nudged the bottle of  
conditioner - what man in his right mind used conditioner anyway, and  
what the hell was with all the different types of soap? - out of the  
way with one hand, reaching for the towel, and flipped the shower-to-  
bath thingie with the other.

So the plan was thus: breakfast, baby names, friends at work,  
Mom, Charles, and failing all that, bombard her with Tara and her  
friends and what Matty was doing in school. Forget Mulder, who was  
the baby's father, if she was going to return the inheritance, if she  
was going to return to the X Files after her maternity leave.  
Bill laid the folded towel over the edge of the bathtub and dressed  
in yesterday's clothes. Wiping the steamy mirror once more, he  
looked himself firmly in the eye and nodded. He could do this. He  
could be supportive, no matter how much he disagreed with her  
choices. 

He could _do_ this. 

He _would_ do this.

 _He would_.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _"You watch, but you don't see."_  
Karin Berquist, 'Alpha'  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally written in 2001.**
> 
> This has taken me a ridiculously long time to write   
> \- as have most of my stories of the past few months - and I can't   
> believe it's the last one I'm writing while the show is on the air. 
> 
> Le sigh.
> 
> For those interested in such things, the title comes from Blade   
> Runner, specifically the moment where Rachel meets Dekkard before she   
> undergoes the Voight-Kampff test. I love the subtle testing of   
> boundaries, the immediate attraction, and the consequent denial of   
> said attraction, and the attempt at control. Sound at all familiar? 
> 
>  
> 
> '"A hole, surrounded by ass"' stolen from 'Dharma and Greg'.
> 
> Flesh Gordon - why yes, it _is_ the porn remake of Flash Gordon. Has   
>  to be seen to be believed.
> 
> DJ Krush/Ki-Oku - The turntable maestro collaborates with veteran   
> jazz trumpeter Toshinori Kondo. Buy it. Krush and Zen highly   
> recommended.
> 
> Parenting for Dummies - Does what it says on the tin
> 
> ImmunoTea - this is a trademarked tea.
> 
> FOIA - the Freedom of Information Act
> 
> ONI - Office of Naval Intelligence
> 
> Quincy - 70's tv show about a Medical Examiner/Coroner
> 
> Shower-to-bath thingie - what the heck are those things called,   
> anyway?


End file.
